Ziggy Malone's Arc

Chapter 6 of 8

The bracket named a stranger, and no one in camp would talk. Ziggy needed to know how her opponent fought before the hour ran out. She found Dorian at the edge of camp, standing outside a weathered shed with sloped shingles. Dorian watched the trail like always, still rubbing the ribs Ziggy had hit that morning. "You watch people," Ziggy said. "You said so. My first fight isn't Jade. It's someone I've never heard of. Help me." Dorian didn't turn her head. "I don't know the name." "But you saw the warm-ups. You see everything." Ziggy stepped in front of her. "One hour. I can't train blind." Dorian looked at her then. "There was a fighter this morning. Tall. Threw a lot of kicks. Southpaw stance." She held up her left hand. "Leads with the wrong side. Most people freeze." "Is that mine?" "I don't know," Dorian said. "That's the honest answer." A sound came from inside the shed. Something scratched at the door. Ziggy pulled it open. A tiny puppy tumbled out, all soft fur and floppy ears, and pawed at her boot. Behind it stood a boy she'd seen near the sign-up. He crouched and scooped the pup up. "That's Dobby," the boy said. "He got out again." He looked at Ziggy. "You're fighting the kicker. I watched her spar. She switches feet when she gets tired. Right foot forward, then she gasses out." Ziggy stared. "You're sure it's her?" "Her name's on the board under yours," the boy said. "I read it. Tall lady. Kicks high. But only for the first minute. After that her hands drop." Dorian nodded slowly. "That fits what I saw. She spends everything early." She turned to Ziggy. "You know what to do with that." Ziggy did. "Cover up. Let her burn out. Then go inside." "Same as this morning," Dorian said. "Slip the reach. Come in low. She can't kick you if you're on her chest." They had twenty minutes. Dorian threw slow kicks and Ziggy learned to fold her arms and take them on the shoulder. She counted in her head. One minute. Two. Then she stepped in fast, past the leg, and drove a fist to Dorian's stomach. The puppy barked. The boy laughed. "Again," Dorian said. "Until it's not thinking." They ran it four more times. Ziggy's shoulders ached from the kicks. Her lungs pulled at the thin air. Her legs held. The horn sounded. First fight, now. Ziggy backed toward the ring. She wasn't blind anymore. Tall. Southpaw. High kicks that died after a minute. A plan lived in her arms. Then a shout rose from the ring. A runner sprinted up. "The kicker pulled out! Twisted an ankle in warm-up!" He checked his paper. "New opponent. Short. Heavy. All grappling. Fight's in two minutes." Ziggy stood frozen. Every counter she'd drilled was for a fighter who wasn't coming.